Page 14 of The Duke's Rules Of Engagement
Jo couldn’t mend it unless she understood it.
Bess, who had been folding and putting away linens in the wardrobe, turned to them. “I think you should go, Miss Lilly. You need to show him that you won’t cower. That you’re strong and won’t let him break you.”
Lilly had absorbed that, thought about it, then slowly nodded.
“That’s true. If I don’t go and he does, he’ll feel like he won.” She’d straightened, a new determination lighting her eyes. “You’re right, Bess. I must be strong. Iamstrong. He has broken off our courtship without even giving me the courtesy of explaining why, which means he’s a…” Her face twisted in consternation. “Well, he’s a horridboor, that’s what he is.”
It was probably the worst name Lilly had called anyone in her entire life.
“He certainly is,” Jo had agreed.
“I shall go to the Dickersons’ soiree,” Lilly had pronounced, twisting her lips in a ghastly representation of a smile. “And I will laugh and smile and have the merriest timeever.”
Now, the party was well underway, with a great deal more guests than Jo had anticipated. A crush of prominent members of thebeau mondecrowded into the Dickersons’ comparatively modest London ballroom, many of whom Jo knew, if only by name, from her meticulous study of the eligibles of the Season.
Unfortunately, Lilly was neither laughing, smiling, nor having the merriest time ever. She’d seen Charles at a distance and nearly choked in her attempt to stop herself from bursting into tears. She and Jo had escaped to the ladies’ retiring room, and it had taken the better part of an hour for Lilly to compose herself. Now, they were back, standing like the proverbial flowers crushed against the wall while a good portion of the attendees were whirling around to the final strains of a lively country dance.
Jo glanced at Lilly, who took a sip of punch. Jo didn’t know how, but after that long and painful cry, the chandeliers gave Lilly’s face a fresh, young look and made her eyes shine.
Just as she was thinking that, Beatrice approached with a handsome man in tow. Seeing the similarities in their auburn hair and lively bright blue eyes, Jo had only one guess as to who the man was.
“I’d like to introduce you to my brother Henry, Viscount Coleton,” Beatrice said, proving Jo’s guess to be spot-on. “Cole, this is my good friend, Miss Joanna Porter, and her companion, Miss Lillian Appleby.”
Jo and Lilly bobbed curtsies, and Lord Coleton bowed then turned to Lilly. “May I have the honor of dancing the next dance with you, Miss Appleby?”
Lilly gave the man a radiant smile. If Jo didn’t know better, she would think she was thrilled at the prospect of dancing with Lord Coleton. “I’d love to, my lord.”
A few minutes later, they left, arm in arm, and Beatrice leaned toward Jo. “He saw Miss Appleby when you first arrived and told me he wouldn’t go home tonight until he danced with her.”
Jo smiled. Lilly’s rare beauty always caught gentlemen’s eyes.
“Now tell me true,” Beatrice said. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
“I am,” she assured her host. It was the truth regardless of the time she’d spent consoling Lilly. Even to be a wallflower at a party like this was exciting—a rare chance to, quite literally, brush elbows with the elite. “Thank you so much for inviting—”
Just then, someone pushed past her roughly, nearly knocking her down. She stumbled to the side. “Oh!”
A firm hand grasped her upper arm, pulling her back upright. Another hand gripped her other arm, steadying her on her feet.
“Pardon me, Miss—” The hands suddenly released her as if she were on fire, just as she turned to see the Duke of Crestmont, who’d gone ashen, his mouth agape as he gazed at her wide-eyed, arms now hanging limply at his sides.
She understood. Mrs. Porter the matchmaker was out of context in such a glamorous setting.
She, however, was accustomed to encounters with clients in the “outside world,” and she immediately dropped into a curtsy. “Your Grace. It’s lovely to see you again.”
He snapped his mouth shut and swallowed, but when he didn’t immediately respond, Beatrice cut in. “Oh! You two know each other?”
The duke cleared his throat. “Uhh…”
“Yes,” Jo cut in. Of course, for discretion’s sake, she could not say that she met him in the same place she’d met Beatrice—in her office. Instead, she said, “We met briefly, long ago.”
“In Nottinghamshire,” the duke supplied, instantly in accord with her little lie.
“Oh, how lovely.” Beatrice smiled fondly at the duke and told Jo, “His Grace has been Cole’s good friend since we were children. I remember many summers spent in the country with them tormenting me.” Her grin belied her words—if they’d truly been tormenting her, Beatrice had long since forgiven them.
The duke stiffened. It was truly amazing he could do that since he was so stiff to begin with. “I do apologize for any—”
“Oh,” Beatrice said with a lighthearted wave, “do not apologize. I am just teasing you, Your Grace. And I think you know that.” Her gaze caught on something beyond the duke’s shoulder. “I believe my husband’s parents have finally arrived. I must greet them. I’ll speak with you later, Miss Porter.” She gave the duke’s forearm a sisterly squeeze. “I’m thrilled to see you, Crest. I’m so glad you came tonight.”
